


Angels We Have Heard On High

by Pyracantha



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluffy sweetness, How The Cutting Edge can infiltrate even the lowliest fic, How to Annoy a Demon in Your Bookshop, M/M, Mistletoe, Porn with Feelings, Silliness Around the Bookshop, holiday fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:55:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22025941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyracantha/pseuds/Pyracantha
Summary: for the sweet (and patient!) @miraworos ! I'm your author in the Good Omens Holiday Swap and I hope this meets with your approval! Since I didn't get in too much nsfw I'll be making sure to update my other more "mature" fics ASAP!  Thank your for your support and love! <3for the prompt "Mistletoe"
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 40
Collections: Good Omens Holiday Swap 2019





	Angels We Have Heard On High

**Author's Note:**

  * For [miraworos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraworos/gifts).



“Angel no, NO. This is getting ridiculous.“

Crowley continues to grumble as he walks the length of the bookshop to where Aziraphale is hanging yet another string of fairy lights. The shop looks like a multi coloured blinking Christmas nightmare to Crowley and the only thing that makes it even passable to spend time there at this time of year was Aziraphale and his entirely sincere love of the season. He turns to Crowley in fond exasperation.

“It’s just a few decorations really. Don’t be churlish, my dear.” Aziraphale huffs and turns back to finish securing the last of the lights to the doorway that lead into the back room.

“A few? It looks like a greenhouse blew up in here. I could smell the balsam fir from outside for Somebody’s sake.” Crowley sighs, "Well at least you haven't loaded up on mistletoe. That stuff is weapons grade annoying. I should know, it was one of ours." He rolls his eyes and misses the glint in Aziraphale's. 

"Yours? How is greenery that reminds one to kiss people one of Hell's?" He gives Crowley an incredulous glance.

"Seriously? Kissing people unawares when you surprise them with mistletoe? Awkward situations, sexual harassment suits, general irritation at being kissed by someone you don't like? Hell's bread and butter, angel." Crowley flops down on the comfortable sofa he's occupied for, well, centuries at least. 

"Well I have none so," Aziraphale trails off and looks thoughtfully at the florists across the way. Then he cheerfully buzzes off to find a bottle of red for them to share. 

Things have been getting more comfortable between them these last few months. The first frenzied days of the emotion dump after the Notpocolypse were exciting but also exhausting. After a few months of being completely in each other's pockets, as well as other more intriguing items of clothing, they were back to a more comfortable daily routine. Crowley spends most of his days in the bookshop with Aziraphale who has reorganized no less than three times since the world hadn’t ended. 

They usually end up spending the night at Crowley’s flat as his bed is shockingly comfortable and large enough for accidental wing spreading. Crowley smiles smugly to himself thinking about the last time Aziraphale’s wings had made an appearance. Crowley had made him come so hard Aziraphale had lost complete control of his wings and they’d burst forth in a froth of feathers. It had delighted Crowley to no end to know he was the only one who could make Aziraphale lose control that way. And then there were the wings, ngk. Even thinking back his words are extremely limited. The feel of those downy feathers on his body was indescribable and he had been thinking recently about how to make it happen again. 

His revery is broken as Aziraphale bustles back in with two glasses and a bottle of Bordeaux. He pours them both a glass and hands one to Crowley. The light in the shop as evening comes on is cozy and welcoming. The wine looks appealingly ruby and Crowley takes his glass appreciatively. Aziraphale drops onto the sofa next to him. 

“Well, my dear, to the holidays,” he smiles and toasts Crowley with his glass. 

Crowley rolls his eyes and clinks Aziraphale’s glass. He sighs in contentment and snuggles into Aziraphale’s side. The angel wraps his arms around him and it is as heaven should be, all comfort and joy. They drink in comfortable silence until Crowley is nodding off, his head now in Aziraphale’s lap. Aziraphale looks at him, his head pillowed on his thigh, thinking of the past few months and how happy he is to have this. He continues to run his hand through Crowley’s beautiful hair and lets his mind drift to his little plan for the next day and he laughs quietly to himself. 

The next day Crowley walks into the bookshop after lunch. He’s had a productive morning, flattening the tires on every car on Berwick, ducking into the bank to vanish several sets of important forms off the bank managers desk, and causing chaos at the post office but he’d finally gotten bored after the second riot over “I had that fucking pen FIRST” and he’d abandoned them all to the pettiness of human nature. He can certainly think of a few better ways to spend his afternoon. Starting with a grateful angel who was in love with, well everything in Maison Berteux. 

“Angel?” he calls, “I’m back! Popped into that patisserie you love. Might have a few chocolate eclairs, a petit four or two.” He looks around, “Angel?” he calls again and then hears a box turn over to his left.

“Oh blast!” he hears the angel mutter. Crowley heads toward the voice. As he turns the corner he is almost bowled over by the angel as Aziraphale is suddenly right in front of him. All sweet smile and leaning incredibly close.

“Hello my dear” Aziraphale purrs as he brings his lips to Crowley’s. Then he’s kissing Crowley, softly at first, then with enough force to stumble him back into a bookshelf. As quickly as it started it’s suddenly over and Aziraphale has pulled back to eye him smugly. Crowley grins puzzled and says “What was that for Angel?” 

“Mistletoe!” Aziraphale laughs. And sure enough, there’s a sprig of green leaves with tiny white berries in his hand above Crowley’s head. He laughs and the sprig disappears. He turns and heads back to his books leaving Crowley smiling and shaking his head at the things that entertain the angel. 

Crowley goes to the kitchen to put the pastries away for later and then heads back to the sofa in the back room knowing that Aziraphale rearranging books can take an afternoon or a year. He smiles again to himself as he settles in to wait. He’s been cruising through YouTube for a few hours causing havoc with racist idiots' ad revenues when he’s suddenly got a lapful of angel. Aziraphale snogs him senseless for a few minutes before breaking away breathless. 

“Mistletoe!” he laughs as he hops up and heads right back into the stacks leaving Crowley with a scrambled brain and the impulse to either incinerate all the mistletoe within a ten mile radius or fill the entire shop with as much of it as he can miracle into existence. 

The day continues like this. Every time Crowley thinks Aziraphale has finished with his magic trick of of materializing sprigs of mistletoe in every nook and cranny that Crowley might find himself in, there he is. With a hand cupping a cheek, sometimes sliding his tongue in between parted lips, or just a chaste closed mouth peck, every one punctuated with a “Mistletoe!” At first it had been amusing and then a bit annoying and then arousing but as Aziraphale seems not to be allowing anything past these kisses Crowley is resigned to be on a low simmer until Aziraphale gets tired of it. 

He is again sprawled on the couch in the back room continuing to listen to Aziraphale putter around after his last kiss. That one had been quite protracted. He’d gotten his hands in that cloud soft hair and plastered himself to the angel. His hips roll just thinking about it. Aziraphale had moaned into his mouth and it was obvious that he had not been unaffected by the afternoon’s activities. Crowley had tried to pull him on to the sofa but Aziraphale had protested that he still had so much to do. He’d sauntered off to the stacks again leaving Crowley breathing heavy and wondering why the fuck he still wore his pants this tight. 

Crowley tries to stop thinking about how ridiculously hard the angel has left him. He stretches and listens for Aziraphale. He doesn’t hear him rearranging any longer. All is quiet and still. He sits up and runs his hands over his face. 

“Angel?” he calls out.

No answer, just the end of the day city sounds mixed with the general dusty air of quietness of the shop. Crowley stands and starts towards the doorway. Suddenly Aziraphale is right in front of him, mischievous grin, and that damn sprig. Before he can even open his mouth Aziraphale kisses him. It’s possessive and hungry and Crowley’s knees get weak. Just when he’s settled his hands on Aziraphale’s waist the angel breaks away, breathing a bit heavy, a pink flush on his face. Crowley groans and reaches for him but Aziraphale dances out of reach. 

“Mistletoe!” he calls over his shoulder as he heads for the flat upstairs. 

Crowley grumbles and follows him calling, “That’s not as charming as you think it is!” which earns him a laugh. 

He continues up the stairs and heads towards the bedroom where he hears Aziraphale moving things around. He finds him looking for something on the shelves. Crowley watches him for a minute, he finds himself doing this more often now. He can look full on instead of in tiny sips and covert glances. He loves to watch a distracted Aziraphale. It still feels daring to watch him out in the open. Aziraphale finally turns and sees him standing there. A bright smile blooms on his face. 

“What on earth are you looking for Angel?” Crowley asks. 

“Oh just this” Aziraphale steps towards him and flourishes his hand. The little sprig makes a reappearance and Crowley takes a step towards him. Before Aziraphale can say anything Crowley has pulled him forward until their lips are almost touching. 

“Mistletoe?” he whispers. Aziraphale’s smile gets impossibly brighter and he breathes a “yes” onto Crowley’s lips. 

There is nothing on earth more delicious than kissing Aziraphale and the sounds he makes are incendiary. Watching him eat every dessert on the menu at the Ritz has nothing on feeling those same noises as he slides his tongue into Crowley’s mouth. It’s heady on a regular day. After this afternoon’s activities it makes his head spin. 

“Been thinking of me Angel?” he groans.

“Oh Crowley you have no idea” Aziraphale whispers into his ear. The sound sings through him and makes him dizzy.

Crowley licks his way down the angel’s neck, he tastes like salt and green apples and ozone. That zing of holiness is even more intoxicating when mixed with the earthly scent of desire. He sighs as he sucks a bruise in the hollow of Aziraphale’s collarbone. He's rewarded with salacious groan and Aziraphale pulling him up to kiss his lips once more. It was passionate and pure, in their short history of kisses this one left them all behind. 

“I think we have a bed darling” Aziraphale pulls back to look at Crowley, his eyebrow quirks as he sees the state his demon is in. Grinning he pulls Crowley over to the bed and backs him right into the mattress. As Crowley’s knees hit the bed he allows himself to fall backwards. 

“Oh my darling look at you” Kiss bitten lips, and a dazed look on his demons face is better than crepes. Well at least it’s running a close second. Leaning down to capture those lips in another kiss he breathes, “ Oh you beautiful thing. My beautiful fiend.” 

Crowley smiles as he melts into their bed knowing that this is the best gift he has ever been given.

He’s starting to like mistletoe.


End file.
